


Baltimore Central College vs. Lecter University of Medicine

by The_Button_Harlequin



Series: Hannibal Advent 2015 [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, College, College AU, Fantasizing, Hannibal and Will are on rival teams, Hannibal is Hannibal, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Soccer, Virgin Will, Will hates Hannibal in the beginning, locker rooms are dirty for more ways than one, techinically locker room shower sex, the soccer college team au no one asked for, they antagonize each other whenever they can what can i say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Button_Harlequin/pseuds/The_Button_Harlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is on a full ride scholarship to BCC, although his full ride is boosted by his performance on his college's soccer team. He's the best, undoubtedly expected to keep his scholarship. He has only one problem: LUM's youngest heir Hannibal Lecter is the only one who can match him on the field.</p><p>On and off the field, Will can't stand Hannibal. Hannibal keeps finding excuses to talk to him. When their rival colleges finally have their game match, things get more heated than either of them ever intended.</p><p>It doesn't help that Will can't figure out why he wants Hannibal or why Hannibal wants anything to do with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entitlement

**Author's Note:**

> For the Hannibal Advent, but I expect this will be a short multi-chapter thing. I've been sitting on it a while, so we'll see what happens.

A sharp whistle pierced the air. 

“Tighten up those corners, Graham!” 

Will brought his cleaved feet nearer and nearer the ball, dodging past Zeller, kicking past Price, right past Brown into the goal. He panted to a halt, bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Damn, Will,” Brown jogged up to him, “let me have one every once in a while.”

Will looked up to his shit eating grin and reflected it back onto the owner. “As soon as my full ride scholarship doesn’t depend on that ball being better than you.”

Matthew snorted. “The ball’s better, sure.”

“Enough chit-chat ladies!” Coach Crawford barked, “Give me two laps around the field and then hit the showers! We got a practice match with LUM tomorrow and I’d prefer if we didn’t lose this time.”

A collective groan, then the thumping feet of forty tired young men onto the stomped grass. 

Zeller still managed to lag behind Will just enough to whisper irritatingly in his ear, panting with exhaustion, “Gotta look good for the boyfriend, huh?”

Will applied an extra burst of speed, finishing before anyone else. Coach Crawford gave him a pat on his sweat soaked shoulder, sounding like what he thought a paternal figure would be, “Good job out there, Will. Now just make sure that today becomes tomorrow too, alright?”

Will simply nodded, too out of breath to answer. He ambled towards the building off to the side of their small outdoor stadium, turning into the barren locker rooms. He made sure to collect his duffel bag before heading to the showers towards the back. He grabbed the last one in the row, pulled the washed out blue shower curtain closed and began to strip.

Tomorrow would be another practice match with Lecter University of Medicine, Will knew that. He also knew that both teams would only practice their drills together in “friendly” competition, considering that both schools were the only ones small enough to really gather so much cooperation from each other, despite them being on opposite sides of the Baltimore school neighborhoods. 

But on top of that, Will knew that the forty-odd boys from that school were largely pompous assholes who liked to know that they had money and weren’t afraid of letting other people know it. Those were the ones that weren’t too bad. The one that Will hated, above all of the other ones, was the great-grandson of the founder of LUM and the nephew of the current dean.

_Hannibal Lecter._

God, Will hated him more than he thought was possible to hate somebody. He never actively displayed his wealth, was never rude towards anybody as far as Will knew, and never, in all that Will had known him, was he ever capable of graciously losing. No, he never threw a fit, never yelled at the one who had beaten him or had ever played dirty on the field. But with his compressed nature, the way he contained himself like a fucking king, all he had to do was direct his microscopic detail inspecting eyes to the one that had beaten him and it would send that person stumbling and clumsy like a spell was cast on them.

The only one who was ever better than him was Will.

Will turned on the shower after shoving his water proof duffel in a corner, letting out a short gasp at the expected shock of cold water that always cooled down his worked body from it’s hot running. He grabbed the soap from the little wrack he set up and began his after practice routine.

And goddamn stupid Hannibal Lecter would always smirk whenever he knew (and he always knew) that he’d thrown off Will’s rhythm. It was like some sort of game to him, trying to figure out how many ways to get Will out of his soccer head space and into a disjointed tumble of useless feet. Will had found out ways to throw himself back into his head space by sheer force of determination alone, but the fact that Hannibal kept doing it to him drove him up a fucking wall. 

He was already considered odd and distant by his own teammates, never mind that the student body thought of him as halfway to crazy town. Frequent nightmares that everybody down the hall could hear, how he always knew what was going on with a person just by having a short conversation with him and the way that he just never seemed to be able to meet their eyes. His professors thought he was anti-social while Coach Crawford thought he was a decent team player, despite the fact that Will never seemed to pass the ball off to anyone that wasn’t directly ready to score a goal.

He was anti-social and he was a decent team player. He was also suffering a nameless pain that he’d never been able to identify. The closest he got was Asperger’s with a high amount of empathy, but that was wrong. He always seemed to be wrong.

Goddamn Hannibal Lecter never seemed to be wrong.

* * *

“Alright, huddle up!” Coach had the starting team of ten circle around him, leaning in with the rest of them. “We are going to beat this round first, then take the next two of them. Once we do that, we got the Title for the month again.”

The Title was some raggedy blanket someone years ago had painted on “KING OF THE GOAL COURT” with badly drawn soccer balls and a phallic looking dust cloud behind them. It existed solely for the purpose of antagonizing the one who didn’t have ownership at the time it seemed, but otherwise no one ever knew where it had come from or who had made it. The two schools had an even number of Title Owns to their names, but LUM had managed to snag it last time giving them a one up on Baltimore Central College. It didn’t seem to matter that a trophy with no value seemed to be on the line once again, the only prize being some caveman need to possess what the competition didn’t. 

The small team of ten nodded their heads anyways, Will leaning back a little from the closeness of the others while he had the chance. 

“BREAK!”

They dispersed into a separate straight line from the LUM athletes, who were lined up just the same in front of a single soccer ball with orange cones dispersed evenly further on. Will was at the back of the line. He was expected to pick up any slack from the players in front of him to take them home for the win. He looked over and saw Hannibal Lecter in the last spot as well, no doubt expected to do the same.

They locked eyes with each other. 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal’s accented voice called over genially, his brown eyes curving up with the smile that wasn’t on his lips.

“Hello, Hannibal,” Will called back. A whistle sounded off, then the din of shouting voices, half encouraging and half threatening. 

He could see Hannibal clear his throat. “I don’t imagine that you intend to tell me why you look like you’re about to go into battle,” Hannibal conversed over the voices.

The first boy on Will’s team made it back. Will moved forward a step. “This is sports. It’s always a battle.”

Hannibal moved up in his own line once the boy from his team made it back. “Even though this is supposed to be friendly competition?”

Will snorted. “It’s never just ‘friendly’ with you, is it?”

“I merely try my best to succeed.”

“Your best shouldn’t include destabilizing someone’s mind to be considered friendly success.”

“Mental warfare has always been a tactic applied in sports.”

“Sports only goes so far. Then, you let it go.”

Will could see Hannibal narrow his eyes. “Are you unable to let it go, Will?”

Will didn’t have to answer as his turn finally came up. He slapped hands with Zeller, launching himself towards the rolling ball. He angled his kick left and then right, weaving in between the cones with the ball at his beck and call.

His attention narrowed down to the ball and the cones, in and around he went with practiced precision. He turned the corner of the last cone to see Hannibal gaining on him with startling speed. He maneuvered the ball likes a surgeon’s scalpel, sharp and steady.

Will grabbed his lead and went as fast as he possibly could, dodging between the cones with more force than was needed. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes on his back, trying to upset his balance. He nearly missed the next cone.

“One match to BCC!” 

Will was rewarded with bruising slaps on the back by his teammates, their rambunctious energy jostling him and the others around them. Will nodded and thanked them quietly. They left him just as quickly as they had come

Will stepped off to the sidelines of his own team, sitting down in the grass to wait out the next three matches for the rest of his teammates. He was plucking the grass absentmindedly when someone settled themselves next to him in the grass. Will tensed.

“Your team is on the other side,” he said.

“You’re on this side,” Hannibal replied, “You are the one I wish to talk to.”

Will side-eyed the taller, older boy. Blond, high boned, and fulls lips that seemed to never sit right. He was pink cheeked from his sprint just like Will was. He sat up straight in his cross legged position beside Will’s hunching spread legged one. 

“Why?” Will asked. He plucked another grass stem and rubbed it between his thumb and first finger.

“You always have interesting insight,” Hannibal nodded to where Zeller was cheering for Price the loudest. “Tell me about him.”

“I’m not a party trick,” Will scowled.

“I would be disappointed if you were.”

Will turned his attention to the grass in his hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Why is he in love with your teammate but refusing to do nothing?”

Will nearly choked on air. “You can’t-!” Will turned his head towards Hannibal, looking at the white of his practice jersey’s collar, “You can’t just ask something like that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s his privacy and I’m not getting in any of that.”

Hannibal gave him a considering look. “Even though you have the ability to read anyone, you refuse to read them out of decency.”

Will nodded. Hannibal sighed through his nose and turned back to the field where Will’s team managed to scrape a win over Hannibal’s again. He spoke again to Will, “If any of them had your abilities they would not hesitate to use them on you and those unsuspecting of them.”

Will turned back to his disintegrated grass stem. “I’m not them.”

“No,” Hannibal’s voice could be mistaken for fond, “You aren’t.”


	2. Hands

Fucking Hannibal Lecter wouldn’t leave him alone after that. He kept interrupting his thoughts with his goddamn smirk and his goddamn brown eyes and his goddamn accent. ‘No. You aren’t.’ What the fuck ever.

“Those potatoes are gonna burst into flame if you look at them any longer.” 

Will jerked away from where he was staring down the baked potatoes in the cafeteria line, late at night and no one to bother him about who to sit with and why wasn’t he going to be social, blah blah blah.

“Sorry,” he murmured, took the tongs up to grab a potato and plop it next to the slop called stew.

“Hey, it’s all good man,” Beverly grinned, snatching up the tongs for her own potato, “Professor Harris’s final?”

“Fucking Hannibal Lecter…”

“What was that?“

Will shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about the game tomorrow is all.”

Beverly nodded sagely. “You and your sexual tension with Polite Snooty.”

Will couldn’t walk away fast enough from her and had no choice but to answer with a retort when they’d both sat down. 

“There is no sexual tension between me and Hannibal Lecter,” Will denied vehemently to the baked potato he was smashing under his fork. “There will never be sexual tension between me and him.”

Beverly gave a considering hum. “So is it because he’s your rival or because he’s rich or…?”

“I’m not gay,” Will gave Beverly a wry look over his glasses, “We don’t have any sexual tension because I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to be gay to like boys.”

“It certainly helps to like their parts.”

Beverly snorted up her soda, coughing and panting with a choked laugh. “You don’t like his ‘parts’, Graham? What is this, the eighties?”

Will stabbed a limp noodle. “Deep south actually.”

She set her soda down. “So is it a repressed thing?”

“There is no ‘repressed thing’,” Will insisted. “I’m not gay.”

“Neither am I but I still dated Alana for a year.”

“Look, can we just not talk about this?”

Beverly gave him a weighted look before her customary shit eating grin spread across her face. “So how about that Harris final?”

* * *

Will was back in his dorm room just before curfew, alone and with a brief text from Matthew that he’d be at his brother’s place for the weekend. It would have been prudent to study. It would have been responsible to make notes for that essay due two weeks from the day before.

Will flopped face first onto his cheap bed and groaned. There was nothing in all the dear world that was going to separate him from sleep at that moment, not school, not Beverly, not fucking Hannibal Lecter. 

Shucking off his clothes for the rare option of boxers and a thin T-shirt, Will went to bed for the first time in weeks without the sound of heavy snoring or the light of a laptop to keep him awake to the wee hours of the morning. He lay in his flat bed with the bargain brand sheets pulled up to his pits, listening to the rap tunes four doors down and then tuning them out when they had lyrics he didn’t want to dream of that night.

There were a lot of things he didn’t want to dream about, not that he had much of a choice on them. Dream about the dead, dream about the living, dream about the dead as the living or the living as the dead.

Dream about fucking Hannibal Lecter.

They’d not spoken for some time after Hannibal’s declaration of Will’s oddness, the both of them pulled into their respective teams to crush the other. They’d been neck and neck the entire time, Will barely scraping past with a five meter lead at their customary straight sprint at the very end.

Will had walked down to the goal at the far end of the field for a breather when he’d felt someone stand by him.

_“You never seem to join the celebrations.”_

_Will shook his hair back into some disordered comfort. “I don’t need to go where I don’t want to go.”_

_He felt Hannibal’s regarding stare. “We all go where we need to go at some point.”_

_“And where does the Great Hannibal Lecter go that he doesn’t want to go?”_

_“Anywhere that doesn’t have stimulating conversations.”_

_Will snorted and pointedly did not look over his shoulder to the rest of their teams. “You mean like college?”_

_He heard Hannibal chuckle and it nearly made him jump out of his skin. “Do you not feel like college is wasted on those who don’t wish to learn?”_

_Will didn’t even have to think about that. “Of course.”_

_“When you meet someone who does wish to expand their minds, to see new horizons, it can be incredible.” Hannibal paused. “It can even be beautiful.”_

_Will managed to look up to Hannibal’s regal nose. “You don’t think that’s at least a little hammy?”_

_“How so?”_

_“Saying something is beautiful when they’re just words.”_

_Hannibal’s eyebrows nearly went into his hairline. “Do you believe that beauty cannot be found in words?”_

_“I believe that other people find beauty in words.”_

_“Then than means that you’re able to see it as well.” Hannibal licked his lips. “Being able to see from another perspective must by fascinating.”_

_Will snorted. “Only if you feel like learning all of their nasty secrets.”_

_Hannibal stepped towards Will. “Tell me, Will,” he too another step closer, “What secrets do you see from me?” Will was startled into looking into Hannibal’s eyes at the touch of callused fingers under his chin._

_Fire heat a need to be seen a need to be understood. A need to have someone believe in the beauty and ugliness he saw in equal terms.  
_

_A need for an equal._

_Will jerked out of Hannibal’s mind with a stumbling of his feet. “I - I have to go.” Scurrying away from Hannibal might not have been the most graceful retreat he could have done, but it got the job done. He hid away in the locker rooms for the rest of the co-practice, learning after he’d showered that they’d won the Title back._

Fucking Hannibal Lecter hadn’t left him since then. Just the heat and the need had lingered, none of the intent or the placement of it. He felt it, felt it like it was his own. It coursed through this veins and pulsed with every beat of his heart. He could feel it sparking against his skin like a faulty lighter.

The sensations coalesced into a steady stream of arousal. His cock thickened without his input, his anticipation tingling his toes. Almost without a thought, Will’s hand slid down into his boxers to just cup himself, his hips jerking without his permission just from that.

It’d been too long since he had the chance or desire to do it so Will wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth from fucking Hannibal Lecter. 

Will released himself only long enough to kick off the covers and escape from his ratty boxers and T-shirt. Finally naked, Will took hold of himself in a firm grip, used his other hand to bite his palm to keep from make a sound. 

He ran one squared off nail on the underside of his cock, the electric shock running through him like lightning. His palm only softened his whimper, and he had to take hold of himself again to keep the sensations wide spread instead of sharp. 

A long, slow drag up his cock, blazing hot under his hand. He gave a hard twist right under the head and sighed softly at the feeling. Down went his hand to go past his base and to rolling the soft balls between his fingers, giving them a gentle tug before going back up again to repeat the process all over again.

Will was panting so hard from behind his hand he almost thought that the guys next door might hear him. He rolled onto his front, pulling his knees under him as he did so. He spread them wider, let his hand go back to giving him a much needed release, panting into the pillow now instead of his hand. If he leaned down any farther, his cock would have been dragging its head across the bed.

A single square nail going along his member, the long tugs and the harsh twist, they belonged to a tan hand, a big hand, bigger than Will’s. Will’s heavy panting was overlaid with deeper breaths, a cut off moan, and quiet groans. Will’s back was hot from an imaginary body covering his, hard and solid from long hours of running. 

Will let out a sharp gasp as another big hang ran its way down his front, down his thigh, back up to grab a firm handful of his ass. He could hear murmured things that made no sense, no words just sounds. The hand on his ass let go only to arrive to his mouth.

_Suck._

Will took them in readily, just the longest two, didn’t want to hurt him yet. Coated and dripping with saliva, Will’s mouth remained open and panting with spittle leaking out onto the pillow case. He could feel his body tensing up at the anticipation of it, the fingers that came back to rub against his hole.

Will bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning, the first finger in with just the tip, but it felt _so good_. So very good. The finger wiggled against the muscle holding it there, Will’s body fluttering around it even tighter at a sensation too good, just too good.

In the finger went deeper, Will sucking on his lip to keep from moaning, the hand at his cock going slower to stave off Will’s impending release. The pain of being so hard, his body too hot for himself, his leaking tip just adding extra slide. The finger fucked its way into Will in time with the other hand on his length, dual pleasures fighting against themselves to be felt more. 

Will’s breath halted at the feeling of the second finger, nudging at his hole.

_Shall I?_

“Yes,” Will whispered to the hand, “Yes, please, please, please…”

Will’s lip bled at the force it took not to moan out loud when the second finger didn’t stop until it was knuckle deep in him beside the first. The hands were too big, were too much of everything from the drag of skin on skin to the way that he could feel them gently widening his hole with every slow fuck.

The hands were growing impatient, wanted to see him come undone, wanted to see what he looked like bare human and radiant. The hand on his dick moved faster, gripped harder, ran a blunted nail over the slit to collect more fluid every time it came back up again. The fingers in his ass were more insistent, rougher, scissored and tugged at his rim.

Will’s breaths were hardly dampened by the pillow. He felt his thighs begin to shake under the pleasure, and he turned his head into the cotton to bite it until his teeth hurt, until his his voice was protected enough for him to have the luxury of a stuttering groan.

He was dragged to the peak by the rough hands, the tan hands, the big hands, held there just above the edge and Will couldn’t tell if it was painful or wonderful. He felt the strong body, the hard body, the athletic body lean itself to hover centimeters above the damp skin of his back. He felt a breathy, accented voice beside his ear.

_Come for me._

Will was shoved off the edge. He came with a sob into his pillow, his thighs giving out to drop him onto the wet spot of his bed, the fingers in his ass abruptly changing angle and becoming too painful to keep there. The hand freed from his ass grabbed and cradled the pillow close to his mouth, covering over the last of his panting moans. He fucked his fist through the waves of pleasure, the globs of cum slicking his fist into a hot tunnel.

It might have taken minutes or hours or days, but Will’s aftershocks eventually ceased. The long strokes on his dick became too painful, his hole didn’t feel like it should’ve stretched the way it did at the end. He pulled his hand away to bring it up next to his other one, his normal fragile boned, scarred hand. 

He allowed himself to stay in the wet spot for a few minutes, just riding out the last of his lasting pleasure. He got up and retrieved the spare bed clothes beneath his bed, changing them loose limbed and calm.

Using the dirty sheets to wipe himself and his fingers off, he left them piled at the foot of his bed with his T-shirt. The boxers back on, Will settled back into his cheap bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.


End file.
